


do i owe each kiss to lip and cheek

by PuncturedButterfly



Series: God Is A Woman [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26234257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuncturedButterfly/pseuds/PuncturedButterfly
Summary: You hover over her lips as you speak, then her cheek, and you hear the answer in her quiet gasp and you see it in the way her throat moves. She tilts her head backwards, dips into your palm, and you can tell you are reigning over her skin and her body in this very moment.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: God Is A Woman [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905472





	do i owe each kiss to lip and cheek

The day has blessedly come to an end about half an hour ago and you’ve done what was expected of you and shaken hands and bid everyone a good night before you were finally free to retire to the chambers that had been provided for you for the night.

The other guests have mostly excused themselves as well by now, only a spirited few had remained to clear out the last order of selected beverages. They were a lively lot, eager to hear your stories and boast with bold emprises of their own in an effort to impress you and gain your attention.

Your host, a young lord of a no doubt prestigious family, had been positively beaming the entire night. You only vaguely remembered his name, and could only recall it because of the colourful dragons lounging around the estate.

You had seen and admired them when you had strolled through the bazaar a few days prior. The young lord had recognised you at first glance and, after a brief but pleasant chat, mustered up the courage to invite you to this spectacle, promising a fine feast and good company among him and his friends.

He had obviously been greatly pleased when your presence had been announced that very evening, already feeling his reputation rise, and greeted you with a bit too much familiarity. You had taken it in stride, however, not bothering to distance yourself from and humiliate the poor boy in front of his guests.

The amount of care for your well-being from the servants and maids had certainly made up for the uncomfortable introduction to all of his friends and societal peers. As promised, the range of exotic food and drink was spectacular and you were encouraged to help yourself to whatever you desired.

Little did they know, you thought with a slanted smile, what you desired was neither the hospitality nor the entertainment.

And after that, the guests had mostly left you to your own devices — too intimidated to strike up a conversation that stretched on for more than a few sentences before they ran out of pleasantries and excused themselves to mingle with people of their own standing.

This, however, had given you ample time to enjoy a splendid evening of being catered to whilst watching the sunset in the warm breeze.

The estate resided atop a plateau on one of the grandest rock formations of Talan’s harbour. Private and secluded, the bustle of the city was a faraway droning rendered mute under the sound of the multiple water fountains placed alongside the edge of the terrace.

The dragons belonging to the family were a nice view, but they remained out of reach for anyone present. They didn’t wish to be disturbed and contended themselves with observing the humanoids in return.

You and Neela had enjoyed a glass of fine wine outside by the balustrade and one of the dragons, one with horns and green scales and pointed wings, had approached you and joined you in your subdued conversation.

Now, as you walk up the stairs and follow a servant to the chambers you were to retire to for the night, you feel content. A smile plays about your lips and you turn your head and reach for Neela’s hand. She is flushed, from the wine no doubt, and her eyes sparkle with joy.

The servant bows deeply and leaves you and the door to the chambers beyond opens and closes silently. There’s dim light emanating from the lamps and it bathes the rooms in tranquillity. All sound, the boisterous voices and joyous songs, are muted here.

You stand on the thick carpet that seems to swallow your every footstep and begin to unfasten your tunic. Neela has vanished into the adjacent bathroom.

A familiar ritual begins as you undress, and each movement of your hands is one that you don’t think about anymore. Your fingers find the laces and buttons without error, this time those of your own clothes, but other times it were the ones on someone else’s.

The unconscious, but not unwelcome thought has you stealing a glance backwards to where the bathroom door is ajar. You lick your lips, smile, and can’t suppress a blush.

It’s your quiet chuckle that has Neela emerging from the bathroom and she stands there with a questioning look in her eyes, as she fiddles with her earring.

You have managed to get out of your tunic and put it on the chair by the small desk when you approach her and raise your hands to assist her. She lets you as her own hands fall away, and still looks at you.

You tell her you’ve had a rather pleasant thought of sharing some intimacy with her and it colours her cheeks the same red as it did yours. Then she smiles, shoves you by the shoulder and rolls her eyes, “Of course, it’s just your mind that’s having you so entertained.”

You hold out her earring and she takes it, leaving it on the sink before she comes back to you. Your eyes trail down her neck, her bare shoulders and you rather like her choice of undergarments for tonight.

Neela sees you, she sees you watching, and it thrills you.

Eventually, your tense stand-off comes to an end when she turns back to the bathroom and waves a finger at you and says, “Get out of those pants.”

She allows you a gracious few moments to yourself before she rejoins you in the grand bedroom. She’s admittedly surprised to find you standing right next to the bathroom door — already having done as your were told —, but you just smirk at having her caught off-guard.

She smirks back a second later. You know she likes it when you want her, but you’re careful in the distribution of that particular desire because you don’t want it to lose its flavour — for both of your sakes. You straighten and now you both stand before one another in barely more than what you’ve originally planned to go to sleep in.

Well, you think, it seems much like you’re going to not be needing that anymore.

Neela is a vision. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really, but when she bares her flesh before you, you feel like a starving wolf regardless of how many years have passed. A dust of freckles dots her bare shoulders and chest and her body is toned and athletic.

You know this is what most women would die and men would kill for, and you feel incredibly privileged and decadent to be allowed to indulge so freely in consumption of what is offered to you.

You know she feels the same way about you and you muse that it’s a rather perfect accordance.

Your hand traces along the lines of her face and, with a simple gesture, the lights in the room are blown out. A soft gasp from her conjures a smile to your lips without any magic at all and you draw nearer. The heat of her body washes over yours and you reach out to her.

She falls into you easily, her lips finding yours in a touch so delicate you have to close your eyes against it. Her hands come up to touch your shoulders and you slowly trace lines along her hip as you hold her face.

It is a blissful stasis in which you find yourself, still heady of song and drink, and you hum into her mouth without urgency. Her fingers flex against your shoulders and as she’s pushing into you, you dare to touch your tongue to her fang.

It coaxes a lovely sound from her.

Your arm comes around her waist and you abandon her cheek in favour of her breast. She approves, as she always does, and you relish her encouragement. You draw away from her lips and look at her, at her flushed face and her wide pupils, and you take great pride in the fact that you’re the only one to witness her like this.

She chases after you, but you keep out of reach, and it’s sparking something playful in her. Her hands start to wander as well and they find skin that positively lights up in their wake. Your muscles flex involuntarily wherever she touches and it delights her to have that effect on you.

You realise she still admires you like she used to all those years ago, just a bit, and you press your cheek to hers in sympathy. She’s grateful, if the way she brushes her nose against your neck is any indication, and you kiss her cheek before dipping your thumbs beyond the waistband of her undergarments.

There’s a deep, satisfying sound rumbling in her throat and chest, and she helps you in discarding them. Your hands find hers and you both take a step and then you’re kissing again. A thick thread of hunger pulls through you and you stop yourself a moment. She’s staring at you with that very same hunger in her eyes and it leaves you quaking.

You cup her face in your hand and draw near to her, breathing a question you both know will be answered tonight, “Tell me, darling. Do I owe each kiss to lip and cheek?”

You hover over her lips as you speak, then her cheek, and you hear the answer in her quiet gasp and you see it in the way her throat moves. She tilts her head backwards, dips into your palm, and you can tell you are reigning over her skin and her body in this very moment.

It exhilarates you. Your grip on her tightens and you pull her closer by her waist, flush against you. Your thigh slots in between hers and the fire is _on_ suddenly and all the little games you’ve played until now are no more. This is serious, this is the culmination of everything you have enjoyed together for the evening.

You have rarely felt this high-strung and everything that is _she_ is intoxicating and wild in your veins. You think this feels like indulging in a vice and you flush from the irritable shame that comes with feeling like submitting to a weakness.

But no, she is no weakness of yours.

The thought brings you a fresh, warm wave of comfort and you trace your fingertips lightly along her thigh, upwards then downwards then sideways.

She blooms, for you no less, and you get down on your knees before her in proper worship. Her hands go along down with you, combing through your hair and guiding your lips to her belly. You kiss her here, there, wherever she wants you to, and look up to her.

She smiles beneath the hooded gaze, the adoration bursting from her eyes, and you love the way her hair falls around her face. It’s a tad longer than it used to be when you were travelling around the world, but you don’t mind it in the least.

You look at her and you find her beautiful in every circumstance, from every angle, at every opportunity. Your hands settle where her hips meet her thighs and you press your fingers warmly into her supple flesh.

Your eyes never leave hers as you bow down, bury your nose in the shorn hairs and surge forward in a heated kiss. Her eyes finally droop, but don’t shut, and the moan she gives you makes your neck prickle as though it’s been slapped.

Her fingers dig into the base of your neck and she claws at you when you don’t let up. Her leg lifts from the ground and you eagerly lift it ever higher, placing it on your shoulder like she’s the royalty and you her humble servant.

She leans back heavily against the wall and you watch her, desperate for the view, as she bites her lip. Your muscles strain against her weight, but the endorphins are already surging through your veins and the feeling of happiness that courses through you is incomparable.

Your tongue traces at her and she sucks in the air. Your name finally falls from her lips, a heated prayer whispered into the empty room, and you hum your approval. Her fingers tighten in your hair and she musters the presence of mind to pet you briefly in reward.

Her thighs tighten around your shoulders and you feel her muscles flex against your palms. Sweat pools at the base of your neck in anticipation. You want to help her fly.

With each stroke of your tongue she jerks until you both find that perfect rhythm that lets you go on for hours on end. You see how she enjoys the subtle tension building within her. You feel it too, and you play right into it — keeping it, coaxing it.

Her sounds are the sweetest songs you’ve ever heard and you admire her pretty red lips and fluttering eyelashes. She growls, then, as you push deeper, and you see one of her fangs peeking out coyly from between her lips.

Your hands find purchase along her thighs as you trace whimsical patterns onto her skin and she yields to the ministrations as she places one hand on top of yours, grasping for your wrist in an attempt to keep herself anchored.

The pace is picking up and you feel the pressure swiftly rising. Her head falls forward and she catches you watching. Her eyes have never been so dark as in these moments. You look up at her and open your mouth wider, hum into her, and it’s stealing the breath from her lungs.

She grips your wrist hard, now, the other hand still buried in your hair, and she pushes away from the wall and further into you, but you’re a stone wall the same and your arms keep her exactly where she is.

She feels good, she feels so good in your arms, against your chest, on your tongue, and you will her to feel you just the same. She does, she lets you know with every ounce of trust she puts into you to hold her up and see her through, and your eyes crinkle around the edges.

Your fingers drag along her hips, along her heated flesh, and you shift your body. She accepts your hand against her cheek and turns her face toward it. Her breath comes out in hard exhales against your palm and it cools the skin on your wrist.

 _Just a little bit more,_ you skirt around the inevitable, draw it out for longer and her brows furrow as she finally tenses up. Her jaw falls open in a silent cry, before she bites down hard on your palm and her teeth come together hard enough to draw blood.

Your reward is the way she groans without pretence, the way she fists your hair to ground herself, the way she grinds against you in exertion — and there’s nothing sweeter in that moment.

You hold her for as long as it lasts as the passion sweeps you both up and away, and when it’s over, you gently lower her to your level and sit on the ground with her.

She leans back heavily against the wall and catches her breath, but your hands are still holding on. You brush the hair from her face and wipe the sweat from her brow. She watches you all the while and the way her lips quirk up at the corner fills you in on a secret you’ve been privy to for a comfortable while now.

Your chest heaves and your focus loses its sharpness. Her eyes are dark, but warm and smouldering. A sudden urge overcomes you and you lean forward well into her personal space to rest your forehead on her shoulder. She accepts you with a quiet laugh and wraps her arms around you tightly.

There’s sweat sticking to you now as well, but you cannot find it in yourself to care. It’s her scent that invades you, her warmth that surrounds you, her love that encompasses you.

And it’s her arms that you belong in.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric from Hozier - Almost (Sweet Music)


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